Whereas every amorous sound
Sweetly marries with the like.
The tender cattle scarcely take
From their dams, the fields to prove,
But each seeketh out a make:
Nothing lives that doth not love.
Not so much as but the plant-
As Nature every thing doth pair-
By it if the male do want,
Doth dislike and will not bear.
Nothing, then, is like to Love,
In the which all creatures be:
From it ne'er let me remove!
Nor let it remove from me!
Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part!
Nay! I have done; You get no more of Me:
And I am glad, yea! glad with all my heart
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands, for ever! cancel all our vows!
And, when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain !
Now, at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes,-
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.
Come live with me and be my Love!
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hill and valley, dale and field,
Woods or steepy mountains yield.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair-lined slippers for the cold
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs :
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my Love!
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning :
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love!
THE NYMPH'S REPLY.
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd's tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward Winter reckoning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy's Spring, but sorrow's Fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason roťten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy Love.
But could youth last, and love still breed,
Had joys no date, nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To live with thee and be thy Love.
PHILLIDA'S LOVE-CALL.
PHILLIDA-Corydon ! arise, my Corydon !
Titan shineth clear.
CORYDON-Who is it that calleth Corydon ?
Who is it that I hear?
PHILLIDA-Phillida, thy true love, calleth thee :
Arise then, arise then,
Arise and keep thy flock with me!
CORYDON-Phillida, my true love, is it she?
I come then, I come then,
I come and keep my flock with thee.
PHILLIDA Here are cherries ripe, my Corydon !
Eat them for my sake!
CORYDON-Here's my oaten pipe, my Lovely One!
Sport for thee to make.
PHILLIDA-Here are threads, my true love! fine as silk,
To knit thee, to knit thee
A pair of stockings white as milk.
CORYDON-Here are reeds, my true love! fine and neat, To make thee, to make thee
A bonnet to withstand the heat.
PHILLIDA-I will gather flowers, my Corydon !
To set in thy cap.
CORYDON-I will gather pears, my Lovely One!
To put in thy lap.
PHILLIDA—I will buy my true love garters gay,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about his legs so tall.
CORYDON-I will buy my true love yellow say,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about her middle small.
PHILLIDA-When my Corydon sits on a hill,
Making melody,-
CORYDON-When my Lovely One goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily,-
PHILLIDA-Sure, methinks, my true love doth excel
For sweetness, for sweetness,
Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight;
CORYDON-And methinks my true love bears the bell
For clearness, for clearness,
Beyond the Nymphs, that be so bright.
PHILLIDA-Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
Been, alack! her swain,-
CORYDON-Had my Lovely One, my Lovely One,
Been in Ida plain,—
PHILLIDA-Cynthia Endymion had refused,
Preferring, preferring
My Corydon to play withal.
CORYDON-The Queen of Love had been excused
Bequeathing, bequeathing
My Phillida the golden ball.
PHILLIDA—Yonder comes my mother, Corydon !
Whither shall I fly?
CORYDON-Under yonder beech, my Lovely One!
While she passeth by.
PHILLIDA-Say to her thy true love was not here!
Remember! remember
To-morrow is another day!
CORYDON-Doubt me not, my true love! do not fear!
Farewell then! farewell then!
Heaven keep our loves alway!
My thoughts are wing'd with hope, my hopes with love:
Mount, love! unto the Moon in clearest night;
And say, as she doth in the heavens move,
In earth so wanes and waxes my delight.
And whisper this, but softly, in her ears,
Hope oft doth hang the head, and trust shed tears.
And you, my thoughts! that some mistrust do carry, If for mistrust my Mistress do you blame,
Say, though you alter, yet you do not vary,
As she doth change and yet remain the same :
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